


New Version Of The Old

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, Haircuts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I think I’m going to have to shave it off,” Derek says softly, his fingers rubbing against Stiles’ hair.  “The pixies really did a number on you.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Pixies are assholes,” Stiles grumbles, meeting Derek’s eyes in the mirror.  “I haven’t had a buzzcut in years,” he says wistfully.  “Figures it’d be because of supernatural beings.  Back to looking like a nerdy teenager I guess.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Version Of The Old

**Author's Note:**

> this started because BK talked about her headcanon that Derek and Stiles cut each other's hair. and then I made it dirty.
> 
> contains talk about Derek wanting Stiles when he was sixteen if that bothers you.
> 
> a fill for my trope bingo card: future fic.

Stiles isn’t sure when he and Derek started cutting each other’s hair. For Derek, Stiles thinks it’s a trust thing because, really, letting anyone near his head with sharp objects is kind of a risk for Derek. So it’s Derek trusting Stiles, and Stiles kind of loves that more than he can put into words. For Stiles, it’s simply laziness. Plus it means he gets Derek’s hands on him, and he’ll never say no to that. Case in point; Stiles is sitting in the bathroom, eyes closed as Derek delicately touches his skin, tilting his head as he holds the clippers in one hand.

“I think I’m going to have to shave it off,” Derek says softly, his fingers rubbing against Stiles’ hair. “The pixies really did a number on you.”

“Pixies are assholes,” Stiles grumbles, meeting Derek’s eyes in the mirror. “I haven’t had a buzzcut in years,” he says wistfully. “Figures it’d be because of supernatural beings. Back to looking like a nerdy teenager I guess.”

“I’ll make you look hot.” Kissing Stiles’ temple, Derek fires up the clippers and tilts Stiles’ head forward. There’s a gentle buzz as Derek runs the clippers over Stiles’ head, pausing every so often to brush away the hairs. Derek’s fingers are warm on Stiles’ skull as he pushes him around, and Stiles sighs happily at the touch.

“What do you mean you’ll make me look hot? I am hot.”

“I know you are,” Derek says, brushing his palm across Stiles’ head. “But you were also hot with the buzzcut.”

It takes all of Stiles’ willpower not to jerk his head up at that. “You thought I was hot with the buzzcut?”

“I — you — that’s not —”

“You liked me when I was _sixteen_?” Stiles says in disbelief, staring at his knees. “You dirty old man.”

“Stiles — shut up and stay still.” Derek walks around and touches Stiles’ chin, tilting his head up. There’s a wrinkle between Derek’s eyebrows as he finishes shaving Stiles’ head and Stiles smiles up at him when Derek switches the clippers off and grabs an old towel to scrub over Stiles’ head.

“You know I was joking, right?” Stiles touches Derek’s arm and searches out Derek’s hand. “The dirty old man thing, it was a joke.”

“That wasn’t what I —” Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand and lets go, his fingertips coming up to touch Stiles’ face, grazing over his freshly shorn head until one hand is wrapped around the back of Stiles’ neck.

There’s a flush on Derek’s cheeks and suddenly Stiles realises what Derek’s so embarrassed about. “You — oh. Really? When I was — really?”

“Why are you surprised?” Derek asks, moving to the sink where he wets a facecloth and walks back over, swiping it over Stiles’ bare shoulders, catching the leftover bits of hair on Stiles’ skin.

“Because I remember me at sixteen?” Stiles says as Derek drags the washcloth over his skin. “I wasn’t —”

“You were,” Derek says simply as he finishes cleaning the hair off Stiles. “To me, you were.”

What Stiles has with Derek isn’t new — not anymore — but simple declarations like that still make Stiles pause, make him wonder how they got so lucky to fumble their way to what they have. “Am I all cleaned up?” Stiles asks, looking up at Derek.

“Yeah.”

Standing up, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and kisses his cheek. “This haircut bringing back memories for you? When I was jailbait?”

“Stiles...”

“C’mon, tell me,” Stiles says, nosing at Derek’s jaw. “What did you think about back then? Did you think about sneaking into my room? About fucking me in my childhood bedroom?” Dragging his lips across Derek’s mouth, Stiles smirks before catching Derek’s mouth in a dirty kiss. “About how quiet we’d have to be?”

“You — _Stiles_ ,” Derek whines, his hands clutching at Stiles’ bare back. “What’re you doing?”

“Giving you what you wanted back then.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. C’mon. Fuck me like you wanted to when I was a teenager.” Stiles barely finishes talking before Derek’s hands are under Stiles’ thighs and he’s lifting him up, pushing him against the bathroom door.

“You want it like this?” Derek asks, his eyes searching Stiles’ face.

Stiles licks his lips and nods, his arms still looped around Derek’s neck. Curling his legs around Derek’s hips, Stiles tries to get as close as he can. “We need the bed,” Stiles says, kissing the tip of Derek’s nose. “Now.”

*

Derek drops him on the bed and Stiles grins when he bounces, tugging Derek down on top of him, hands sliding underneath Derek’s shirt. “Off.”

“Mouthy,” Derek mutters, kissing Stiles, nipping at his bottom lip.

“You wanted me at sixteen, didn’t you?” Stiles teases. “What did you expect I’d be like?”

“Exactly how you are.” Sitting up, his ass against Stiles’ crotch, Derek looks Stiles over and narrows his eyes. “Hands above your head. Keep them there.”

Stiles obeys easily, a thrill running through his spine at the way Derek seems to know what he wants right now. When Derek strips his shirt off, Stiles huffs with frustration, wanting to touch Derek, and from the look in Derek’s eyes he knows it. “Unfair,” Stiles mutters, squirming underneath Derek as much as he can.

“You wanted it like this.”

“I would’ve already come if you’d done this when I was sixteen.”

Curling his body over Stiles’, Derek kisses him and grins. “You want me to make you come?”

“Not yet,” Stiles says, swiping his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip. “My improved stamina is something I’m very proud of.”

“We’ll see about that.” Climbing off Stiles, Derek takes his sweatpants off and stands by the bed, stroking his cock a few times, and Stiles’ mouth practically fucking waters with how much he wants his mouth around it.

“I — please can I —” Stiles licks his lips. “Gimme your dick.”

“Sit up, you can move your hands.”

Stiles groans, knowing exactly what Derek is going to do and wanting it so badly. He scrambles to sit up, making grabby hands motions when Derek doesn’t move. “C’mon,” he whines. “Please.”

Derek moves swiftly, until he’s kneeling over Stiles’ body, one hand cupping the back of Stiles’ head, the other wrapped around his cock which he directs towards Stiles’ mouth. Pre-come smears over Stiles’ lips and there’s a guttural noise from Derek’s throat when Stiles licks at Derek’s cock. “Open,” Derek says in a hoarse voice, and Stiles happily obeys. “Jesus, Stiles, I — _fuck_.”

The first time they ever did this, Derek had gone slow, not knowing how much Stiles could take, but now Stiles just breathes in through his nose, inhaling Derek’s scent as his mouth gets fucked. He loves it, loves how Derek gets when he does this; needy and desperate like Stiles’ mouth is the only thing he needs to get off.

“Thought about this each time you answered me back,” Derek says, both hands now on Stiles’ head, his fingers rubbing against the freshly shaved buzzcut. “Thought about making you suck me so you’d shut up.”

Groaning around Derek’s cock, Stiles holds on to Derek’s hips, fingers digging in so hard that he’s sure he’d be leaving bruises if he could. Stiles takes more of Derek’s cock in his mouth, his nose brushing against the dark hair at the base and, looking up at Derek with wide eyes, Stiles very deliberately swallows. The reaction from Derek is instantaneous; he pulls out of Stiles’ mouth and glares down at Stiles. “You’re trying to make me come.”

“I thought that was the point?”

“Not until I’ve fucked you.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, stroking Derek’s ass and smirking, the taste of pre-come still in the back of his throat. “You should’ve said.”

“Brat,” Derek mutters, leaning down and grasping Stiles by the chin, kissing him firmly before sliding off Stiles and yanking Stiles’ sweatpants down.

“Again, I thought that was the point,” Stiles laughs breathlessly at the raised eyebrow and quirk of a smile Derek gives him. “How did you think about it? How did you want me?”

“I —” Derek rubs his hands up Stiles’ thighs, skimming over his hips, avoiding Stiles’ cock completely, despite the fact that it’s hard, and sticky with pre-come; Stiles whines, twists around in a failed attempt to get Derek’s hands where he wants them.

“Tell me.”

“Hands and knees,” Derek says, dragging blunt human nails down Stiles’ thigh. “I want you begging.”

“Is that what you wanted when I was sixteen?” Sitting up, Stiles kisses Derek softly, one hand scratching through Derek’s hair. “Is that how you imagined me? Begging and needy and desperate to be fucked up you?” Meeting Derek’s eyes, their noses bumping together, Stiles brushes his lips over Derek’s mouth as he talks. “Because I would’ve been like that for you. Would’ve been like that when I was sixteen. I’m like that for you now. I always want you, Derek. Always.” Stiles doesn’t get to take a breath before Derek’s kissing him fiercely, like he wants to devour Stiles, and that’s something Stiles will forever be okay with.

“Turn over,” Derek says in a ragged voice when he pulls away from the kiss, his lips wet with saliva.

Stiles presses their mouths together one more time before he obeys, turning around and balancing on his hands and knees. It’s quiet, and all Stiles can really concentrate on is the touch of Derek’s hands against his skin. Demanding, but soft, touches; pushing Stiles’ knees apart; pressing a palm between Stiles’ shoulder blades until he falls forward a little. Stiles’ skin is tingling with all the ways Derek is touching him and he shivers, pressing back against Derek’s hands when they palm his ass.

There’s a familiar sound, and then Stiles feels Derek’s slicked up fingers pressing against his hole. “You would’ve started with two?” he chokes out. “When I was sixteen?”

“You stretched yourself out all the time,” Derek whispers as he presses inside Stiles. “I could smell it on you sometimes, when I came by your house. The stench of cheap lube and come was all over you.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles groans, his head falling between his arms. “Did you — was it something you liked?”

“It drove me _crazy_ ,” Derek says, his voice wrecked as he slowly fucks Stiles open with his fingers. “You were so young and I —”

“You wanted me.”

“I did.”

“You have me,” Stiles says, voice hitching with each movement Derek’s fingers make inside him. “You had me then, and you have me now.”

Derek leans over Stiles and kisses down Stiles’ spine, his fingers still working Stiles open; Stiles breathing shallowly with each touch of Derek’s lips on his skin, and he whines when Derek pulls his fingers out.

“I would’ve ruined you when you were sixteen,” Derek says so quietly against Stiles’ neck. “There would’ve been nothing left.”

“Derek, I —”

“Shhh. I wanted you, I still want you.”

There’s a graze of Derek’s fangs on the skin of Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles shudders, mouth opening and closing without making a sound. “Derek, _please_.”

“Please, what?”

“Ugh, you asshole.”

Derek’s fangs scrape against Stiles’ skin again and Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to coming without anyone touching his dick. “Ask me,” Derek says softly, before he drags his tongue down Stiles’ back.

“Fuck me.”

All touching stops, and then the next thing Stiles knows, Derek’s cock is pushing inside him and anything Stiles could say is lost. Derek’s going torturously slow and Stiles wants to push himself back, wants to fuck himself on Derek’s cock, but that’s not what this is. This is Derek’s pace, what Derek wants, and Stiles — he’s so gone on Derek, he’s willing to give him anything. Has possibly always been willing to give him anything.

As soon as Derek bottoms out, he grips Stiles’ hips; Stiles ducks his head, trying to ignore his aching, leaking cock, and then Derek’s fucking him hard, his hips snapping against Stiles’ ass with each thrust. It’s relentless, and so goddamn good that all Stiles can do is hold on to the sheets and take the pace Derek is setting.

“Not gonna — jesus, Derek — last long.”

“Good,” Derek bites out, his fingers pressing into Stiles’ skin. “Want you to come, want you fucked out when I —”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Stiles gasps, his fingers tangled in the sheets, and it only takes one more thrust from Derek before Stiles is coming so hard he almost blacks out. Derek fucks him through it, not as hard as before, but Stiles is so sensitive he groans each time Derek pushes inside him.

“I — if we’d done this when you were sixteen, you would’ve —”

“I would’ve loved it,” Stiles says, his face half buried in the sheets. “Would’ve loved you.”

“I would’ve destroyed you,” Derek says, voice barely above a whisper.

“That — you don’t know that.”

Derek’s warm body covers Stiles, his hips slowing down as he fucks Stiles, hands curling over Stiles’ arms. “I do. This is — oh — we’re better, like this.”

Stiles can tell Derek’s close, his movements getting erratic, his breathing strained. “We would’ve been amazing whenever we started.”

“But this — now I get to keep you,” is the last thing Derek says before he’s coming, his hips flush against Stiles’ ass as he holds himself inside Stiles, and _God_ , Stiles loves every fucking second of it. He could lay there forever underneath Derek, with Derek’s cock still inside him, and since Derek doesn’t seem like he’s moving, Stiles thinks maybe that’s something that’s going to happen.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles moves his hand around until he can clutch Derek’s hand in his own. “You always would’ve been able to keep me. Then, now, always. I’m yours.”

Rubbing his face against Stiles’ sweaty skin, Derek sighs heavily, and then Derek’s mouth is sucking a mark on Stiles’ shoulder, nipping at the raw skin. “I’m better, now,” he says when he’s done. “You can have me now. I won’t destroy you.”

“Derek, I —”

“Let me,” Derek says quietly, his lips dragging along Stiles’ neck underneath his hairline. “I — please.”

Stiles isn’t really sure what Derek’s asking for, but he stays pliant on the bed, Derek still inside him, mouth pressing against all parts of Stiles’ skin he can possibly reach, occasionally marking Stiles’ skin, and it’s — it’s what Derek seems to need right now.

When he pulls out of Stiles, Derek rolls to the side, and Stiles shifts a little, curling an arm over Derek’s waist and kissing his chest. “Are you okay? Should we — was that a bad idea?”

“What?” Derek cranes his head and looks down at Stiles, his brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you —” Stiles pushes himself up on his elbows and then into a sitting position, crossing his legs and resting a palm on Derek’s chest. “You know I never thought of you as broken, right? That I would’ve been with you however you were?”

“I know,” Derek says, covering Stiles’ hand with his own. “I do know that, but Stiles you — you deserved more than me back then. You always did.”

“But I wanted _you_.”

“And you got me. A better me.”

Stiles sighs, smiling down at Derek softly. “I would’ve taken you however you were, but I get it. I do.”

“You wanna get cleaned up?” Derek asks, tugging their joined hands up to kiss Stiles’ knuckles. “Or you good?”

“The sheets are pretty, uh, messy.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t,” Stiles says with a grin, wriggling on the bed. “But a bath sounds good.”

“Not a shower?”

Shaking his head, Stiles gets on his knees and leans over Derek, kissing him firmly. “I want you to relax.”

“I’m pretty relaxed.”

“What we just did? That brought up a lot for you,” Stiles says, stroking a hand over Derek’s hair. “I can tell it did. And that’s cool, we don’t have to talk about it, but I — let me do this, okay? Let me take care of you.”

“You always take care of me.”

“And I always will.”

*

Derek only likes using subtle scents in the bath, hates anything overpowering, so Stiles puts a few drops of his own special bath oil mix into the water and swirls it around with one hand, sitting on the edge of the tub; Derek’s a warm line behind him, his hands stroking over Stiles’ buzzed head. It’s comforting, and Stiles leans into it like he’s a cat, enjoying the way Derek’s fingers travel over the shape of his skull.

“That’s nice,” he sighs, watching the water pour into the tub.

There’s a humming noise from Derek, and they stay like that until the bath is ready. Getting in, Stiles sits with his back against the tub and urges Derek in until he’s laying with his back against Stiles’ chest, head lolling on Stiles’ shoulder, and their legs tangled together in the spacious tub. Smoothing his hands over Derek’s chest, Stiles kisses Derek’s head and smiles. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Feel better?”

“I felt fine before.”

“Derek...”

“Yes, Stiles, I feel better.”

“Asshole,” Stiles whispers, pinching Derek’s nipple, laughing when he squirms. “You know you don’t ever have to feel guilty about wanting me when I was sixteen, right? You never acted on it — as much as I would’ve been totally on board with it — and even if you _had_ , you wouldn’t have to beat yourself up over it. Derek, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Derek sinks back further against Stiles, letting out a deep sigh and taking one of Stiles’ hands. “I —”

“Didn’t do anything wrong. Please trust me on this.”

“I do trust you,” Derek says, squeezing Stiles’ hand. “You’re happy?”

“Right now? I’m naked in a hot bath with the grumpy ass werewolf I kind of really like, yeah, I’m happy.”

“No, I mean. With — with me?”

“What are you even — Derek, I’ve been happy with you since you marathoned all the Iron Man movies with me.”

“That wasn’t a date,” Derek says immediately, a smirk creeping into his tone.

Snorting, Stiles knocks his chin gently against Derek’s head. “It so was a date, you were too emotionally repressed to admit it.”

“Stiles —”

“Yes, Derek, I’m happy with you. _You_ make me happy. Waking up with you makes me happy, throwing Cheerios at you makes me happy, climbing you halfway through a workout makes me happy, full moon sex with you makes me happy, arguing with you over your love of the Dodgers makes me happy, the cute little dip above your butt makes me happy —”

“Oh God, Stiles, okay, I believe you.”

“Good,” Stiles says, kissing Derek’s damp hair. “You’re a moron sometimes.”

“Thanks so much.”

“No, I —” Stiles huffs in exasperation. “Do you really think I would still be here if I wasn’t happy?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

Derek shifts in the water and sighs. “Can we get out now? I’m relaxed. And my fingers are going all wrinkled.”

“God forbid a big bad werewolf has wrinkled fingers. C’mon then, you’re the one on me, you’ve got to get out first.”

Derek stands there dripping, before offering a hand to Stiles, which Stiles gladly takes as he climbs out of the tub. Grabbing a giant fluffy towel, Stiles drapes it over Derek’s shoulders and leans in, kissing Derek’s smiling face. “You’re cute when you’re wet,” Stiles says, pushing Derek’s damp hair back from his forehead.

“You’re always cute.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Stiles smirks, wrapping his arms around Derek underneath the towel, hands sliding over Derek’s wet skin. “Wanna dry off and order take out?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Derek says, pressing kisses on Stiles’ shaven head.

“Are you kissing my buzzcut?”

“You kiss my wolf ears.”

“We’re so weird.”

“It’s a good job we’re together, then.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says quietly, his mouth against Derek’s neck. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://heroderekhale.tumblr.com).


End file.
